


Pumpkin Bread and a Cup of Tea

by Typing_is_the_new_writing



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, No gender descriptions, Other, Possible Spoilers, They/Them Apprentice, They/them prounouns, nonbinary apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typing_is_the_new_writing/pseuds/Typing_is_the_new_writing
Summary: “Before he crossed the threshold, Asra took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them, schooled his features into a carefree grin, and stepped forward. “Spoilers!Angsty little bit from before the Apprentice truly wakes from their death.
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana) & Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Pumpkin Bread and a Cup of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thanks for clicking! Just a note, this story assumes a non-binary apprentice and doesn’t make any mention to any certain characteristics. If y’all would like, I can move around some stuff and give the apprentice a gender, but it’s whatever.   
> Also, in this story, Asra loves you, but there’s no mention of if you love him back. Not to be mean or anything, just letting y’all know in case you feel bad for the other characters (idk fam).   
> Anyway, have a good day!

It was cool morning. The fog rolled in like it always does, and slowly, Vesuvia awoke.

It moved languidly through the city, first overtaking the docks, then the storefronts, until it seeped, like always, all the way up to the palace on the horizon. 

Vesuvia’s quiet little shops awoke one by one. Amongst them was a small magic shop with two inhabitants inside:

One was the master magician Asra. With cloud-like white hair and an adornment of colorful sashes and scarves, he stood in the kitchen of the shop. Like the sun itself, he stood fully awake and gleaming as if to substitute for the morning sunshine the fog hid from the world. He was preparing for... something. Steeling himself. 

Methodically, he grabbed two cups from the shelves, a full teapot, and a board with pumpkin bread on it and climbed the steps to the bedrooms above. 

The other inhabitant of the shop was... ill-defined, metaphorically and metaphysically. They sat, propped up against the headboard, eyes far away. 

There were no blankets on the bed, they made Asra nervous after last time. Just a single pillow and the bedsheet. 

Before he crossed the threshold, Asra took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them, schooled his features into a carefree grin, and stepped forward. 

Like always, his friend made no move to acknowledge him, just continued blankly gazing ahead. 

Undeterred, Asra hummed a ‘hello’ and walked in front of the bed. “I-“

Their gaze shifted up. 

He choked. “I- brought us-“

Their eyes bored into him. 

“...tea.” The false hope drained from his voice. It wasn’t about being happy anymore, it was about staying here. By their bedside. 

Even when it felt hopeless. 

_______________________________

He’d heard too late- he didn’t even get to see their body before it was carted off like the others. Thrown carelessly into a pit on an island far away and reduced to ash.   
His friend.   
His life.   
His love.   
Into ash. 

By the time he’d become worried, it was too late. Alone in the world, he searched for them. When he’d come to the island, the dread was already deeply rooted into his heart, he’d just hoped to see their body, to give them a burial himself, sickness be damned. 

His rowboat washed ashore and then he remembered only clawing at the dirt until his fingers bled. It was too late. They were already gone. 

You were already gone. 

There were so many things that could’ve happened, but very few would’ve guessed it would be this, right? Reclaimed from Death itself? A deal, made by a heart that barely dared to hope to bring you back. 

____________________________

“...tea.”

A wave of... something hit you. Vertigo? Consciousness? Pain?

What were you looking at? Or, who? 

The figure’s shoulders dropped, and they grabbed a nearby chair and set the things they were holding down on the... thing.

Bed. This is a bed. You’re in a bed. 

What’s going on? 

“...pumpkin bread, because I know it’s your favorite..”

Wait.. was the figure talking? Shit, you missed it. 

“...there wasn’t much to see...”

Shit, pay attention! 

But you know it’s no use - you’re already blinking out again. 

No! There’s something here that feels warm, feels happy- feels like you-

What are you? What are you talking about? 

It’s just-

It’s over.

________________________________

You’re back again, where there’s nothing. Okay, you know it’s not nothing, but it isn’t defined. It changes so much, you can’t call it anything. It’s... a place, is all. 

A deep breath. There’s... red right now. You’re frustrated. What is that other place, with the figure? What feeling was there? How can you get back? You need to get back, you were a person there. You were defined. It’s nauseating here, where everything is in flux. 

It’s... purple now. That has something to do with people, you think. Or not? 

Not what? Not-people? 

_________________________________

“I went out to the market to get some more pumpkin bread, because I know it’s your favorite; you probably miss it, huh? The market, I mean. Well, I can tell you there wasn’t much to see this morning. Everyone’s still waking up. By noon though, I’ll probably have to fight a crowd just to get around the outskirts.” He laughed, but it was mirthless, performatory. Act normal to feel normal, right?

Not that any of this felt normal. How could it? When looking at their blank eyes started tremors in his hands? It got harder with every day. 

Sometimes, he couldn’t even bring himself to walk in the room- he collapsed before the doorframe in a quiet fit of sobs. 

Those days, the only hope he had was that they didn’t feel lonely while he curled into a ball six feet away. 

He felt lonely. 

Before he made the deal, he could only think of how the power of his love could bring them back - he romanticized a feverish hope into a reunion of tears - of happiness and love as the two locked in embrace. 

Instead, he had to carry their limp body home in the shadows like a madman. 

Since then, day after day, its been the same. He wished he could find a way to bring their soul back. When he consulted the Arcana, he found no answers. The Star claimed their soul was there, was alive and with him. The Fool swore they’d upheld the deal and brought his friend back entirely.

Sometimes, he’d see a glimmer of recognition in their eyes or they’d utter a word breathlessly, but it was momentary. It wasn’t enough. 

He didn’t know how much pain he could endure like this. But it had to be helping. This couldn’t be in vain. 

Then everything would’ve been.

______________________________________

A hand. Yours. A bed. You didn’t have trouble remembering those things, but that stranger-

No, not a stranger. How could you be so drawn to someone you didn’t know? When you were there, there was such a feeling of longing. Longing to be there. From you or them? It didn’t matter. You tried to conjure that feeling, that place,

A sound! That’s right, go back... Murmuring... 

“...so quiet around the shop...”

It’s the figure! You can see them! Please, stay here, you have to stay here...

“...I don’t know what I was expecting. I mean, I do know, but I don’t know how to make that happen.” The figure is getting up!

_______________________________________

“Wait, no...”

_______________________________________

Gods, it sounded so real. Asra wanted it to be real. His heart caught in his throat as he turned to them, eyes searching desperately.

_______________________________________

“I can hear you?” You heard your voice, it sounded hesitant. 

“There’s... something here... it’s real here. I’m real here...” Your voice grew more sure with each word. You had to keep talking, had to stay here. 

“I’m here and I’m going to stay here and-“

You looked up.

“-who are you?”

The figure looked torn. 

_______________________________________

It was real, they were really alive! It was everything he wanted. His heart soared hearing their voice again!

“And- who are you?”

It fell once more.


End file.
